


The Truth About Cats and Dogs

by Pervasive_Threnody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pointless, Romance, Silly, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pervasive_Threnody/pseuds/Pervasive_Threnody
Summary: "Okay, butwhydon't we have a dog?""Do youreallywant the competition?"Because I've been dog-sitting this week and it was involving and quite time-consuming and I really am quite tired and this happened.  Also:Sheppardis a sleek, slinky cat.Johnis a shaggy-haired, tongue-lolling, puppy-eyed menace to the scientific advancement of humankind.  :D





	The Truth About Cats and Dogs

"Okay, but why don't we have a dog?"  
  
Rodney typed on, without bothering to look up.  "That's an absurd question.  By and large, history's great geniuses have been owned by cats; and the reasons are so obvious I shouldn't have to explain, but I will, for _your_ benefit--"  
  
"That's very generous."  
  
"--thank you, I agree--everyone seems to think _cats_ are the high-maintenance domestic pet, when they couldn't be more wrong, really; it's quite the opposite."  
  
"Do elaborate."  
  
"See," Rodney said, typing faster as he warmed to his subject, "a dog is like a four-legged toddler, always wanting to _do_ things, always _needing_ something, having to 'go' at the worst possible times; and who wants to be interrupted in the middle of a particularly profound moment of inspiration merely so the dog can take a dump?  Whereas a cat just slinks around, doing his thing.  Sometimes insinuating himself into your day--"  
  
"Yep, 'insinuating,' what I'd call it."  
  
"--just goes in his crapbox, none of this 'outside' malarkey.  What's more, the box practically cleans itself--"  
  
"Amazing, isn't it?  Almost like someone _else_ does the work for you."  
  
"Exactly!  They're so _tidy_.  Furthermore, like toddlers, dogs seem to need validation from you approximately every five minutes.  'Play with me, human!'  Not that I have anything _against_ dogs, mind you, far from it--they're quite all right in measured doses--but a dog always acts like it's going to die in the next _three seconds_ if you don't tell it what a good boy it is, _again_.  Who _needs_ that?"  
  
"Okay, but _why_ don't we have a dog?"  
  
Rodney whirled in his ergonomically appropriate office chair.  
  
"Were you not listening to a single thing I said?  Oh."  
  
He looked at John.  
  
He looked at the sleek, well-fed Siamese cat trying to use John's head as a pillow.  
  
He looked at John's soft, pout-shaped mouth, at his big, hopeful eyes peering from beneath his feline hat.  Noticed his come-hither slouch that was just so, so _laughable_ except when, every once in a _very great_ _while_ , it _worked_.  
  
"Do you _really_ want the competition?"  
  
"Hey!  I resent that.  Wait.  You're totally right."  
  
"Of course, I am."  
  
John turned up the pout, dislodged the cat and slid farther down the couch, stretching his arms over his head, exposing his belly.    
  
Rodney eyed him with suspicion.  
  
"It's a trap, isn't it."  
  
John showed his teeth with a huge yawn and stretched some more.    
  
"It's _always_ a trap."  
  
Helplessly, Rodney watched his shirt ride higher.    
  
"Of _course_ it is."  
  
"Rawd-nee."  
  
Rodney sighed and gave up on getting _anything_ done with Colonel Hotness just, just _smoldering_ over there, damn it.  
   
He grumbled.    
  
He hit "save" on his particularly profound moment of inspiration.    
  
He shambled to the couch and, with majestic, put-upon long-suffering, allowed himself to be turned into a limited-edition, cuddly supergenius pillow.  
  
"You're the reason I don't have a Nobel yet," he mumbled into John's warm neck.    
  
John's rumbled, throaty laugh was _almost_ better than a purr.  
  
The gentle hand stroking his back _definitely_ was.  
  
"I totally am."  
  
"You admit it.  And you aren't even the _least_ bit sorry.  You're a crime against humanity.  You, you reprobate."  
  
John wiggled his hips.  "Play with me, human."  
  
"Oh my god you're _hopeless_."    
  
"Yep."  John wiggled some more, drew Rodney into a sweet nuzzling kiss, and Rodney whined and grumbled a little more just for good measure before he surrendered.  
  
"At least your nose is _dry_."  
  
"C'mon, buddy," John whispered to Rodney's parted lips.  "Be hopeless with me?  Together."  
  
They were.

**Author's Note:**

> Dogs are _definitely_ more high-maintenance. Cats are way more my speed. I can't keep a dog in my place, so I've been shuttling back and forth to let my doggy charge outside, and waking up early so she can get out and do her "thing." Give me that crapbox any day, lol.
> 
> This little fic popped up in the middle of the other projects I've been wanting to work on but have been too wiped at the end of the day to do more than stare blankly at. Clearly proof that inspiration, for what it's worth, really can't be forced. I'm glad the week is over, but hey, the doggo is happy, and I got at least one story out of it. Thanks, doggo!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
